


i'm trying to get better cause i haven't been my best

by faenova



Category: AR∀GO ロンドン市警特殊犯罪捜査官 | Arago
Genre: Blood and Gore, Chronic Pain, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, everyone shows up at least once, questionable medical procedures, self-surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faenova/pseuds/faenova
Summary: Super-healing doesn't mean accurate healing. Arago learned it the hard way.





	1. it's just a knot in the small of your back

**Author's Note:**

> i live for magic healing that harms as much as it helps if you dont take care of yourself and just let the magic go haywire. brionac is my perfect outlet.
> 
> timeline is no gogmagog but arago's friends all know about magic.
> 
> story and chapter titles taken from "get better" by frank turner.

Super-healing doesn't mean _accurate_ healing. Arago learned it the hard way early on, when he took a hit to the face and broke his nose. Not an unfamiliar thing for him. By the time the fight was over and he found a public bathroom so he could try and clean up, it had already healed. Crooked and ugly, but without a hint of swelling or a scar. He considered leaving it, but once he cleaned his face and got all the blood out of the way, he found he couldn't breathe through his nose all that well. That would be a problem. 

He had to break it twice before he set it correctly, looking mostly normal and letting him breathe properly again.

That kind of stuff becomes a theme. Fix the injuries as they happen, or risk it healing wrong and having to bust it open again to let it heal right. Cuts usually heal fine without aid. Bones have to be set quickly, and that skill gets better with time. However, there are some things he can't fix or even check. He's sure that some or even most of his organs have healed and grown back warped. When the weather gets crummy, or when he pulls something wrong, or sometimes just for no damned reason whatsoever besides brionac being a dick, the built up scar tissue seizes up and aches. Numerous places where he's been broken and been ripped open act up all at once, making him feel like brionac is trying to re-heal the shoddy patch job into something even more distorted.

He normally eats what he can when he can, but on bad days even the sugary foods that brionac normally won't object to sit wrong in his stomach and he can't keep anything down. Once he got a lung almost completely torn out, and he can still feel the muscles on his right side hitch every time he breathes in. He gets headaches and migraines from countless blows to his skull. His left arm doesnt quite have the same full range of motion as his right does. His neck will erupt in sharp pain if he turns his head too far to the left. He has small almost unnoticeable bumps on both his shins from Seth's cult breaking his legs. Those are especially a bitch to deal with when it rains.

He doesn't ever bring it up unprompted, but he doesn't feel too much of a need to shy away if asked.

~

Oz comments once that he's impressed with how quickly Arago can set a broken bone. "I have to be," Arago answers. Oz nods like he's already figured that out.

~

Coco immediately starts fretting when Arago stumbles and lets out a hiss of pain. He brushes it off, or tries to, as it was just a bad twinge that didn't even last. It took him off guard is all, but that doesn't stop her from making him sit down and rest before they continue their mission. She asks what hurts, and Arago smiles at her reassuringly, or so he hopes. "Just an old wound acting up. Not a big deal." Coco accepts it, but warns him that if it keeps acting up then she's taking him back to Albion HQ. Arago laughs, but agrees.

~

Seth somehow notices the scars from the injuries that his own cult inflicted. He doesn't know when he saw, because Arago is wearing jeans when Seth asks what method brionac uses to make sure everything gets healed neatly, referencing the nearly-clean healing of his legs. "It doesn't," Arago shrugs. "Not that I know of." Seth also asks if everything scars or if small enough wounds disappear, and Arago has to admit that he hasn't thought too hard about how brionac works. This causes Seth to start theorizing a mile a minute about how there _must_  be something to organize automatic self-healing, as he's grown back entire limbs almost flawlessly. Arago reminds him that the key word there is "almost," but Seth continues to talk about something along the lines of brionac using one side of the body as a map to heal the other, like a mirror. Arago stops listening about halfway in. His head hurts too much to think about it. 

~

Rio sees him re-break a broken nose after a fight with an ogre, and he almost forgets that it isn't a normal thing until she points out how painful it sounded. People aim for his face all the time and he's had to re-break his nose more times than he can count--enough that he has a noticeable bump where it was previously a smooth curve from eyebrow to tip. He points it out to Rio when he tells her this. She winces in sympathy, and asks if it hurts. "Other stuff hurts more," he replies. Rio's aura turns cooler colors that swirl uncomfortably, and he knows she wants to help or make him feel better but she doesn't know how. It's easily recognizable on her. She hugs him, and he keeps an arm around her waist as they trek back to the car. A nice thing about her being short is that so long as everything below his neck is covered, there's very little chance of her touching his skin. He tells her this, and then tells her that it makes up for the fact that shorter people are closer to hell. She smacks him playfully before she starts the car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	2. come on now, let's fix this mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe catches Arago on a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 9999% self-indulgent pain  
> also this would be where the vomit tag comes into play

Bad weather days evolve into "brionac is a bitch" days because after a certain point, he doesn't need to have a recent or even old wound act up to be in pain. Brionac just starts... pulsing. More than normal, that is. Brionac is a constant thrum of magic alongside his heartbeat, but this is more. Everything turns into burning pain like he's lost his resistance, and it pulses through his body in waves. When that happens, he's forced to take the sick days he assumed he would never need to use again.

~

Joe catches him on a bad day, when they're both working overtime and thankfully no one else is around to see Arago sprint to the bathroom and just barely make it to the sink to throw up what little he ate that day. Arago keeps a white knuckled grip on the porcelain bowl as he tries to breathe through the burning sensation that rolls through his abdomen and threatens to make him retch again. He doesn't even realize that Joe had followed him in until he feels a sturdy hand rubbing circles in his back. He recognizes Joe's dark earthy aura before he looks up to see the man's concerned face. Arago quickly looks back down and turns on the sink to rinse out his mouth.

"You okay now?"

Arago nods, and opens his mouth to tell Joe he'll be fine, but something in his chest pulses again and pain rips from his heart down to his middle, bringing another wave of nausea with it. " _Nope._ Shit--" Arago hunches over the sink again and retches, even though there's nothing left in his stomach to throw up. He gasps and tries to catch his breath, but his stomach won't stop twisting itself into painful knots and all he can do is make a pathetic whimpering noise as the pain subsides to something he can deal with. The pulses in his chest are consistent now, even if they still make him want to curl up into a ball until the pain passes. At least he's pretty sure he won't vomit anymore. "Think 'm done," Arago rasps. He spits out bile and rinses out his mouth (again) and turns off the sink.

"You need to go home," Joe pats his back one more time before his hand finally goes back to his side. "We both do," he adds. "You should've told me you were sick."

"M'not sick."

Arago turns to Joe and is faced with the old man raising a single accusatory eyebrow.

"I'm _not_ ," Arago snaps. "Can't get sick."

"You just threw up."

"Not because I'm sick, though."

Joe sighs exasperatedly. "Are you safe to drive home?"

"Yeah, probably." Arago takes an unreasonable amount of paper towels from the dispenser to wipe the water off his face. "It's manageable now."

"Manageable?"

"The, uh, pain," Arago mumbles, crumpling the paper towels into a tight ball in his fists. He keeps his face neutral. "Brionac likes to kick my ass sometimes, remember?"

A streak of gold-orange shoots through Joe's aura, but the surprise doesn't show on his face. Just concern, which soon turns everything murky ocean colors. "I'm driving you home."

"But my bike is--"

"I'll pick you up in the morning, then," Joe says firmly. The magenta around his head and shoulders glows more prominently than usual, and Arago knows he's not going to be able to talk him out of it. "Or, you can stay at my place for the night. Your choice."

"...My flat's fine," Arago finally mumbles. He tacks on a "Thanks," as they walk out of the bathroom and back to the grey museum to pack up a few final things before they go to Joe's car.

~

He's reluctantly glad that he doesn't try to drive home himself because as with most bad days, the pulsing pain is back with a vengeance and would've made driving back difficult, to say the least. The part he's less glad about is Joe noticing him squirming in his seat and deciding that he doesn't want to leave Arago alone, which results in immediately changing routes to go to Joe's house instead of Arago's flat. But he finds himself too exhausted to argue, and doesn't protest as they walk into the house. Joe's words blur and he finds himself on the couch with a blanket and pillow. The lights go out and Joe disappears, but Arago doesn't know if he says anything. His chest throbs and he feels like he can't breathe, even though he knows he perfectly well can. It's a long time before he actually sleeps.

~

Arago wakes up, unfortunately, with a scream. Brionac now feels like it's trying to break out of his ribcage with every pulse of energy it sends out, pain radiating from his chest out to the tips of his fingers. Arago chokes back the next scream, curling in on himself and clawing at his chest like he might be able to dig brionac out of his body if he tries hard enough. His chest burns and he tries not to make noise cause the neighbors will complain again if he screams, but he can't help whimpering on every exhale.

He suddenly feels a rough hand on his shoulder and he panics. His head snaps up and he's halfway to leaping off the--couch? Not his bed. He's not in his room. Joe is hovering, covered in dark blue like an ocean. He's in Joe's house. Joe is _talking_ , he finally realizes, and Arago tries to focus on the old man's words through the fog of pain. "M'okay," Arago grits out. "This-- _nhh_ , this happens." 

"You're _not_  okay," Joe snaps, voice laced with concern. Oh, he can make sense of words again. That's good. "What do you need? How can I help?"

Arago shakes his head. "Can't," he hisses. "Nothing helps."

"There must be something," Joe insists.

"N--" Arago can't even get the one word out before another wave of pain crashes against his ribcage. Everything constricts and his breath catches in his throat and he can't _breathe--_

He isn't sure if he blacks out for a moment or if he just gets lost in the pain but he snaps back with a gasp. The pain has shifted enough so it isn't crushing his lungs so he takes huge, desperate breaths. He looks around, tries to actually take in his surroundings and realizes he's gripping Joe's (bare) arm and panics for a split second before he notices his gloves are still on. He hadn't taken anything off when he passed out last night. He stiffly lets go of Joe's arm, and then realizes that the reason he was grabbing it is because Joe's got his open palm resting on Arago's chest. He also dully realizes that Joe's been talking again, trying to guide him to breathe. It's hard to hear over the thrumming in his chest, but he nods and continues taking deep breaths, trying to keep them even and not really succeeding.

And--ah, great. Joe's seen him cry pathetically _twice_  now. He barely even has the energy to wipe away the tears, so he just lets them run off his face and stain the pillow beneath him. He tries to say something to Joe. An apology maybe, or an explanation better than the vague things he's previously told the old man about his pain. But what comes out is " _Shit_ ," choked between heaving breaths. 

Joe tells him he's sorry, which Arago thinks is stupid. It's not his fault and there's nothing he can do about it. "Do you need anything?"

Arago mumbles a negative. "Th' worst of it is over, I think." The pulsing seems to be dying down, but he can only hope. "Still hurts, but I can breathe." He finally gets to that apology, continues mumbling: "Sorry I woke you."

~

And then he wakes up. Again.

He panics for a split second--it felt like he blinked, but there's a hint of daylight peeking through closed blinds and he hears cars on the road outside. Did he pass out again? Probably. He hopes so, at least, because the other option is that he was in so much pain that he can't even haze through the memories and he really doesn't like Joe worrying about something he can't fix. But Joe isn't anywhere to be seen, so he can't gauge what happened based on his reaction.

He sits up, and immediately groans as his torso protests the action. He's going to hurt for days after this. Brionac is humming uncomfortably, a heavy weight straining against his muscles, but it's stopped pulsing. The attack is definitely over. Thank God.

~

Joe is awake. He comes out of his room and tells Arago that he passed out in the middle of his apology last night. Good. It's morning still, he hasn't left for work. He tells Arago that he was about to call in sick for him, or something of the like. Arago's not listening to the details and interrupts with "It's fine," which makes Joe stop. "Pain's over. Just sore now."

Joe squints. "You said you were fine last night."

"I said that so you wouldn't worry," Arago admits. "Cause there's nothing you can do. But it's actually over now. Worst of it never lasts more than a day."

There's a dark doubtful color that slowly creeps across Joe's face. But there's an underlying green, which means-- "Okay. I'm trusting you." Thank god. "But if I catch you hiding anything, I'm taking you home. Got it?"

"Yessir," Arago jokingly salutes, and twitches when it pulls at his ribcage. Ow. He puts his arm back down.

Joe is talking about leaving early to swing by Arago's house and get him a change of clothes. Arago says that would be nice, and apologizes again. Arago walks slow and with purpose, so he doesn't pull anything. He'll have to keep an eye out so he doesn't show anything in front of Joe, but it really is just residual soreness. But hey, he's gotten good at hiding his winces when it comes to the lesser stuff. He'll manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	3. i took a battering...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arago has to take drastic measures to fix himself sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally, the self-surgery and questionable medical procedures

The bullet's lodged just underneath Arago's ribs. He was shot in the back, thankfully all the way through his lung so it healed over quick. He's currently coughing up the blood left from the brief wounds, but there isn't a lot, and he can't feel the weight of something inside his lung. He hates that he knows what it feels like.

He coughs again, rattling and painful and scraping against the small piece of metal stuck between his lung and bone, but by now there's just a faint spray of pink on his sleeve instead of the gobs of deep red he was hacking up earlier. He takes a deep breath--nothing itches too bad, feels like the coughing is mostly done. There's still a slight tickle in his throat, but that will eventually go away.

And it's soon to be overshadowed, since he needs to get this bullet out.

As he stands he's made painfully aware that the bullet wasn't just behind his ribs, but had partly caught itself in his ribs. He can feel it stabbing into his side, so he's gonna hazard a guess that bone has already grown partially over it. It's worse when he breathes deeply, so he tries to keep it shallow as he goes back to his bike. He doesn't want to do this in a random alley. He has safer places where he's less likely to get caught.

The closest is an abandoned building where he accidentally scarred a homeless man for life the first time he used this place for his "cleanup." He's pretty sure people think the building is haunted by a demon or something by now. But in reality there's hardly even any ghosts that linger. It's fairly well empty.

He goes to the second floor, dumps his backpack on the floor and sits down next to it with a wince. Pulls out the first aid box that looks more suited to a murder kit than anything, but it gets the job done for him.

Something he learned while correcting the haphazard healing brionac does when he isn't paying attention, is that it's a lot easier to start from scratch than it is to fix things. If he doesn't have the ability to remedy it in an easy or feasible way, his best bet is to rip it out entirely and let brionac grow a brand new one.

Unfortunately, knowing that as a fact doesn't make it easier to do.

He doesn't have overly fancy medical tools. He nicked a dissection kit from a school because at the time, he wasn't sure where else to get a scalpel. But it's not like he has a better option, he sure as hell didn't trust regular knives to make clean cuts that heal smooth.

He has to be quick, doesn't matter if the cut isn't totally straight. Cuts heal easy. He wads up his glove and bites down on it, and grips the scalpel like a child would grip a fork in his fist. It's just the bone, he reassures himself. Bones grow back smoother than organs. He takes a deep breath--winces as the bullet scrapes his bone. He reminds himself that he can't just leave this one in like other bits of shrapnel. This one is affecting him too much.

The scalpel edge touches his skin, just at his sternum. One more deep breath, and he presses down and rips the scalpel to the side, opening himself up right across his rib cage. His other hand immediately touches the bone, keeping the wound open. He cries out, muffled by the glove. He can't stop now.

Arago drops the scalpel, both hands feeling along his ribs and keeping the fast-closing flesh at bay. He chokes as he wedges his fingers between his ribs and he just barely keeps himself from vomiting in pain. He grabs the offending bone, spreading his ribs and wraps his fingers around as tight as he can with his blood-slick hands.

He yanks.

The bone comes free with a sickening crack and a scream. Arago doubles over, chest heaving. The gash has already stopped bleeding, but he bites back another scream and sobs as the bone slowly grows back to replace the missing damaged part.

It only takes about a minute, but it feels much longer while he's hunched over and trying not to throw up at every exhale. He's shaking and his chest aches even after he feels the bone connect, finally sealing itself up. Arago relaxes, collapsing fully into his own blood on the floor in a still-shaking mess.

This is going to be disgusting when he gets up, but he can't bring himself to care. Arago just... wants to sleep for a little while. He doesn't, though. His torso is throbbing, angry red clouds in his aura telling him what he already knows. It fucking _hurt_.

He gets up after he stops dissociating and the blood is mostly dried. Now he's gotta pack up all his shit, cover himself with a jacket and make the walk of shame back to his flat and hope people don't look too hard at any blood he can't scrub off with an also-blood caked towel. Nothing new. He's just glad it's starting to get dark. Less people to notice him this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	4. ...but i've got thicker skin and the best people i know looking out for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio is with him a lot more now, which means Rio sees him burn out a lot more, too.

Brionac never seems to stop, as far as Arago's been able to tell. Nothing short of death makes it stop and even then, he's learned, it picks back up a moment later to reboot. It only has two modes: normal and overdrive. And even in overdrive, it doesn't wear itself out. All that happens is his body gets more damaged, his flesh burns out, and brionac keeps humming along. It's happened too many times to count, but usually he gets himself home before his nerves regenerate and his flesh heals over the burns.

But Rio is with him a lot more now, which means Rio sees him burn out a lot more, too.

He's been fighting too long--he tries to control his output, but the fight lasted hours even with Rio's help and it pushes him to the limit of what his body can handle. And then he keeps going until the enemy is a pile of ashes on the ground, and his limbs are trembling so much that his knees hits the ground too. Rio shouts and runs to him, grabs him and keeps him from falling flat on his face. But now he's leaning heavily on her and he doesn't have the energy to make sure she's not accidentally touching his skin. Then again, brionac is so loud his ears are ringing, and his chest is tight enough that he can't catch his breath. She might get burned through his clothes anyway.

"I'm okay," he says weakly. "Doesn't hurt." Which is true, his hands feel tingly and everything else is faintly throbbing but there's no real pain. Yet.

"That's not a good sign," Rio reminds him. He agrees with that, but he's not sure if he says so out loud. She gets her arms under his to help haul him to his feet, and he ends up leaning on her more than he would like to admit.

They aren't far from his flat. By the time she unlocks the door with the spare key he gave her, his hands have gone from faintly tingling to a harsh buzzing. "You can go," he says as she lowers him to sit on the edge of his bed. "I'll be okay."

Rio gives him a Look. "No, you won't."

"I can deal with it," he corrects. His hand twitches involuntarily and he flinches. "You don't have to stick around again."

"I'm not gonna argue with you every time this happens."

"Rio--" He's cut off from his own words when there's a sudden pulse from his chest, out of rhythm with his heart. Everything freezes up, and his arms suddenly burn where his healthy skin meets charred flesh. "Help--help me take off my gloves," he stutters.

She makes quick work of it, being careful not to touch his hands directly. She makes some kind of noise at the sight of his hands. Arago tries to shrug off his jacket, and Rio helps with that too when he gets nowhere with his twitchy fingers. He winces as the sleeves chafe against his patchy skin, which is flaking off at this point.

His shoulder suddenly spikes with pain, right along his scar, and he muffles a groan as he tries to grip it, but his fingers still aren't cooperating. His right arm always takes the worst of it, and now that brionac is working on fixing his nerves... "Shit," he whines. His fingers go from twitching to spasming, and he leans back on the bed to press his burning shoulder into the mattress.

Rio asks if she can touch him. He grunts an affirmative, and shuts his eyes tight. Rio shuffles around him, and he feels the bed dip behind him. She half-drapes the blanket over Arago and presses herself against him, and he can feel her cheek on the back of his neck through the fabric.

The ordeal doesn't last long, when he checks the clock. But it feels like forever, and Rio stays at his side even when he bites back on screams as large clusters of nerves suddenly get feeling again. He's panting and covered in sweat when it finally starts to die down, and ashy flesh is staining his sheets and healthy skin. Rio is stroking his head through the blanket. He's not sure when that started, but it's nice. He moans in relief, and Rio catches on. She sits up, leans over him to peek at his face. "You feel better?"

He nods.

"You wanna watch Sailor Moon and eat junk food?"

"God, yeah," he rasps.

She helps him up--he doesn't hurt anymore but his limbs are still shaky. She rips the sooty sheets off the bed and tosses them in the corner. Tells Arago to clean up and change while she puts new sheets on the bed. He nods and goes through the motions, pulling fresh clothes out of his dresser carefully, to not get them dirty. Steps into the shower with unsteady feet and scrubs off the clingy dead flesh. Maybe takes a little bit too long, but either way Rio is sitting on the freshly made bed with his laptop when he comes back in a hoodie and sweatpants. He unceremoniously flops onto the bed. Rio shifts to make room for him, and he scoots into a familiar position with him propped against the headboard and Rio tucked under his arm, safe from brionac with Arago's oversized hoodie covering him.

They're at the end of the second episode when Arago says "You don't have to answer if you don't want. But," he hesitates. "What does it look like, when I have an episode. Not the burnouts?" He knows those aren't bad. They're just irritating. "The actual episodes."

Rio's aura goes quiet, vibrating softly against his as she recalls unpleasant memories. "When you have an episode," Rio carefully starts. Her hand is resting on Arago's chest and her gaze is trained on it, but she isn't really looking at it. Her eyes are unfocused. "You look like you're choking. Your aura turns red whenever brionac flares up, and you go rigid, like you can't move. It's scary to watch. I can't imagine how it must feel."

"Feels like I'm choking," Arago responds dryly. He's not looking at her either, staring at the laptop sitting on his lap as the anime plays. "Like brionac grabs my insides and just..." he makes a squeezing motion. "That, and also like... nerve pain. Burning."

"Burning--?" Rio is suddenly more alert. She actually looks at him. "Do you think your resistance might be wearing off?"

Arago shakes his head. "I just don't think I ever had perfect resistance. I was always able to burn myself out, so all of this," he gestures at his chest, where brionac is humming against his ribs uncomfortably. "I think it was gonna happen anyway. Overusing it just fucks me up a bit more now that I've been busted up a few times."

Rio winces sympathetically. Arago winces as brionac hums louder and his chest tightens. "You okay?"

"Mhm. Just sore."

The credits roll. Rio frowns, mostly to herself. Her aura is doing the concerned but helpless cool colors thing again, but it settles quickly. "Do you wanna keep watching?"

"Yeah, go ahead and play the next episode."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	5. a reminder you could always be a little bit better than this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz can be scary, but he can also always be relied on.

Arago wakes up.

His first thought is that he shouldn't be here, then his next thought is what the hell does _that_  even mean. The third is that he's been impaled.

Oh.

He's pinned by a large chunk of concrete, most of which has cut into his side and has completely immobilized his arm. There are chunks of rebar sticking out of the slab haphazardly. A few are caging him in, and one in particular is sticking right through his stomach. Lovely.

The fourth thought is that he's not alone, but he doesn't realize it until he turns his head to see Oz kneeling down next to him. "Where's..." Arago slurs. "I was... fighting," he mumbles. He can't remember what he was fighting.

"It's fine. I took care of it," Oz reassures Arago. His hands hover around the wound, and he gently brushes over the rebar like he's trying to figure out how best to solve this. "Don't worry about it."

The thought of how scary Oz can be rises unbidden in Arago's mind through the haze and pain. Even in a situation like this, Oz keeps such a tight hold on his aura that Arago can't sense a living presence right in front of him. No emotions to be read, almost as if he doesn't exist. He can't tell if Oz is secretly panicking or if he's genuinely calm about this.

Then Arago realizes, _Oh, I'm not panicking either_. No wonder he's all hazy. Oz is probably doing that thing where he forces his aura on other people and they don't even realize they're being manipu

Arago screams as Oz tries to move the bent rebar, and all semblance of a calm trance that Oz had over Arago is lost.

Arago is hyperventilating now, choking on air (thankfully not blood--yet) and he feels gloved hands touch his face. Oz is talking to him, trying to project that aura of calmness again, but it's hard for Arago to sink back into it now that he's completely aware.

"--gonna try and move the concrete, okay? I might be able to lift it off of you," Oz says. Arago nods, because if he opens his mouth he's gonna make an ugly noise or hyperventilate again and just breathing hurts already. Oz is still talking though, so he tries to focus. "I'm gonna tear your shirt away so it doesn't get caught in the wound when it heals."

Oz makes quick work of it, talking all the while to try and calm Arago down. Arago tries to relax into it and keep his breathing shallow, and fights the urge to try and claw the rebar out himself. Then Oz puts a hand on the concrete. Arago hisses through his teeth as it jostles the rebar slightly and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Okay," Oz starts. "I'm gonna count to three. One..." and suddenly the rebar rips out of Arago's stomach. He screams again, and curls in on himself now that he has the freedom to roll onto his side. He gasps, gripping at his side. He vaguely feels the _thud_  as the concrete rolls back to the ground.

It's already stopped bleeding, but Arago throws up anyway. Apparently the rebar pierced through his actual stomach, judging by the amount of blood running down his chin right now. He wipes his face and shudders at the sensation of his organs trying to shift back into place as it finishes healing. He bites down on a whimper. Oz's hand is there again, on his shoulder, trying to settle his scattered colors. Arago doesn't uncurl from his position.

"Did it all heal right?"

"Yeah," Arago rasps. "Yeah, I think so." He finally lets go of his side and pushes himself up, onto his elbows. Oz helps him sit up the rest of the way, and Arago realizes now that his face is slick with sweat. His shirt is ruined, again, and he's got blood soaked into his jeans. He probably looks like a mess. He's glad they're out in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, but that means the drive back through the forest is gonna be a while and he's gonna have to sit in his own blood. Literally.

"We've got towels in the trunk," Oz reminds him. Arago almost snaps at him. He's already knows there are towels. Arago is intimately familiar with those bloodied towels. Most of the blood on them is his, since he fights hand to hand and is the one who takes the most hits, and he doesn't have magic werewolf fur like Rio for armor. "C'mon, let's go. Albion or your house?"

"Mine, please." He gets in the van, and is already regretting the decision as Oz starts up the engine. "S'closer." Oz's driving is reckless at best, and it's not gonna help Arago's churning stomach.

"Fair." Oz, for what it's worth, tries _not_  to drive like a maniac. But halfway through the drive Arago still has to hurriedly tell Oz to pull over, and he stumbles out of the van and leans a hand on the nearest tree. He retches a few times, but nothing comes up. Not even blood. He doesn't think he's eaten at all in the past week, but something is still sitting in his stomach wrong.

The other door to the van opens and Oz steps around and approaches him. "Did you get it all out?"

Arago shakes his head. "I think..." he cuts himself off and he gags again. He has to stop to breathe through his nose for a solid minute, and Oz thankfully doesn't have any comments. The sensation doesn't exactly pass, but now he's pretty sure he recognizes what it is underneath the overwhelming urge to vomit again. "I think my stomach healed wrong."

"Shit," Oz murmurs. "Is that something you know how to fix?"

"No!" Arago's voice is more shrill than he would like it to be. "I can't _do_  anything about my organs, I'm not--" and there's the nausea again. "M'not a--a surgeon--Jesus _Christ_  I'm gonna be sick." He groans and doubles over. His breathing is just heaving at this point, but he isn't actually retching this time. "I'd like to just... throw up and be done with this, please," he whines.

Arago feels Oz's hand on his neck a moment later, and a wave of calm pale colors wash over his own aura. It helps a little as be tries to breathe through the nausea, but not much. Eventually he has to go back to the car. Nothing is coming up, and he just has to deal with it the rest of the way to his house. He keeps his head low and his hands wrapped around his middle. Oz keeps him steady when they walk up to his flat.

Oz stays. Arago tries to get him to leave, but Oz insists on sticking around at least until dinner. Oz is stubborn like that. Arago just curls up on the couch and lets him do... whatever it is Oz does. When he briefly looks up, Oz is on Arago's laptop. He doesn't think he ever gave Oz the password, but he's not surprised.

The nausea doesn't die down. Oz makes him get off the couch and clean up--helps him strip out of the clothes that are now stiff with blood. He hopes maybe he can save the jeans, but he doubts it. The shredded shirt goes to the bathroom floor with everything else and he steps in the shower.

He spends more time trying not to get dizzy and fall over than actually cleaning himself, but he gets all the blood off either way. There are fresh clothes on the sink and the bloodied pile on the floor is gone when he turns the water off.

Oz knocks on the bathroom door which creaks open slightly, and he tells Arago to go to bed. Arago doesn't object. Oz leaves with a promise to check in on him later, and Arago makes a mental note to text Oz later that he know he'll forget when he wakes up. He doesn't bother to make himself another reminder.

He buries himself under his sheets and just tries to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	6. i'm gonna fight for this four square feet of land like a mean old son of a bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth helps, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more vomit  
> and blood  
> and a lot of those two in combination

"Poppy juice was said to quell brionac's bloodthirsty rage," Seth tells him just before he gets on his bike to go home.

"...Okay," Arago mumbles after a pause. He squints at Seth. "Brionac doesn't exactly scream for blood, though."

"No, but it does the magical equivalent of an overheating computer and causes you pain through overstimulation. I'm saying it might calm brionac down a bit."

Arago's mouth hangs open in a silent 'oh' as he stares at Seth. Then at his bike. Then at Seth again. "Can I get poppy juice at the store?"

Seth looks at Arago like he's fighting the urge to roll his eyes. " _Morphine_. Morphine is made from poppy flowers, you idiot. I used it to--drug you," he hesitates just a moment at admitting that. It might be regret or shame, but Seth is good about keeping his colors a neutral blue. Unlike Oz's uncomfortable non-presence, Seth just disguises everything with normalcy. Arago can't read him. "I know brionac burns up drugs too fast to be effective. But morphine might be a viable painkiller."

"Huh." He almost asks where he can get morphine without a prescription, but that sounds illegal. He'll figure something out.

~

He doesn't figure something out. He forgets and another bad day hits full force some weeks later, the day after he got impaled on the mission with Oz. He wakes up long before his alarm and immediately has to run to the bathroom to vomit.

It's mostly blood.

Well at least it's _something_  this time, which is kind of a sad thought--being glad that he's vomiting blood because dry heaving for over half the day before left him exhausted.

He goes back to his room after getting the blood off his chin and falls back on his bed with a heavy thump. Arago waits a moment to see if he feels better, futilely hoping that he just needed to throw up and that's all it is. But he's only feeling worse. His stomach is now twisted in painful knots, and the sensation is spreading faster than he would like. He fumbles near his head for his phone, and pulls up his contacts with shaky fingers.

He calls in sick. Normally he powers through bad days, or he tries to, just to get paperwork done so he won't get fired or put too much pressure on Joe. But this is shaping up to be more than he can handle, he's sure. He ends the call just before he loses his grip and his hand falls back onto the sheets.

He takes in a long shaky breath. His chest is pounding and it already feels like brionac is constricting all his muscles at once. But it's still early, it's not as bad as it usually gets yet. He pulls at his sheets--they feel heavy in his shaking fingers, _he hates it_ \--and curls up with his arms pressed against his torso.

~

He wakes up again and his insides are burning.

There's no time for him to get to the bathroom before he vomits again. He only manages to sit up before chokes and blood splatters on the floor.

It feels like there's something stuck in his teeth.

He can't work it out with his tongue, so he feels around in his mouth with his fingers and ends up pulling out small stringy bits of flesh. His hands shake, and the pulses from brionac pierce through his chest like knives. Arago spits, because he's already gonna have to clean it up and he can't stand having chunks of his own stomach stuck in his teeth. He wonders if his stomach really is his own or if it was Ewan's for a hot second before he gags and more threatens to come up.

He just wants this to be over. He hates this. He hates it he hates it _he hates it_ \--

He realizes belatedly that someone is standing in the doorway. Seth, he senses without looking up. He doesn't acknowledge him, but Seth has already caught on that Arago noticed him and says, "Rio couldn't get anyone to cover for her."

"I don't need anyone here."

Seth doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow. He just flicks Arago with his aura like a weird mental slap.

"I don't _want_  anyone here," Arago corrects himself as he pushes off the bed to stand. Brionac pulses loudly and Arago has to lean against the bed frame for support before he gives up and lowers himself back down to the mattress. He's panting, and he can feel sweat beading on his face from exertion. He doesn't want Seth to see this. He wants to curl up under a rock and stop existing until this passes.

"Well, too bad. I've got a present for you."

Arago opens his mouth to snark back, but all that comes out is a choked noise as he gags again, and tries to keep it down. At least until he gets to the bathroom. He doesn't hear what Seth says, but in a few moments he's alone again. His stomach churns. He should go to the bathroom. With more effort than he would like to admit, Arago hauls himself to his feet. He uses the wall this time for support, dragging his shaking limbs to the bathroom where he nearly collapses as he sits down on the edge of the tub. The room is spinning and his legs hurt just from walking the short distance to the adjacent room. It's pathetic that pain can reduce him to this.

A glass of water placed on the bathroom counter interrupts his thoughts, and Arago immediately snaps "I'm not thirsty."

Seth then sets down a small orange pill bottle next to the glass. "Morphine," he says pointedly. "Can't hurt to try."

Arago stares at the pills. "Where did--"

"Doesn't matter. We can figure out long term arrangements later if this works." Seth uncaps the bottle for him, which Arago is secretly grateful for since his hands are shaking again. "A standard dose for pain relief is roughly fifteen to thirty milligrams once or twice a day. Two hundred is legally lethal, but of course some people can overdose at less than a hundred. I used closer to three hundred to knock you out, so your resistance is obviously high. Each tablet is... are you listening to me?"

"...Not really," Arago says through gritted teeth. "Sorry."

Seth sighs. "Take..." Seth squints at the label, thinking. "Four tablets to start." He even pours four out and puts them on the counter for him.

"How... how much issat, again?"

"More than a legal dose. The information is on the label if you want to take a look when you're more coherent."

With that, Arago scoops up the pills and knocks them back as fast as he can. Seth offers the glass but Arago shakes his head. He's glad he didn't try to drink it because he gags almost immediately. He clamps a hand over his mouth, willing himself to keep the pills down.

After a moment of holding his breath, nothing comes up. He tries to sigh in relief, but it comes out as more of a groan. Seth doesn't say anything, but a small wave

of pale lavender concern-not-pity and bright blue  _curiosity_  ping him. It's probably the closest Seth will ever get to genuinely asking if he'll be alright. "It's staying down," is all Arago offers in return. "For now."

"Do you need help getting back to bed?" Seth asks out loud this time.

"M'just. Gonna stay here for a minute," Arago replies.

"Alright. Tell me if you need anything, I'll be in the next room."

And Arago is alone again. He isn't sure for how long, but the nausea is... not too bad,

at least for a little while. When he gets bored enough, he hauls himself back up on his feet and leans against the counter, prepping to go back to his room.

What happens instead, however, is he turns his head to be immediately sick in the sink. Can't even make the full 180 to throw up in the toilet.

Three half-dissolved pills stare up at him in a puddle of blood and bile at the bottom of the sink, surrounded by more bits of flesh no bigger than the pills themselves, but decidedly more solid than what he pulled out of his teeth earlier. 

He coughs and chokes as more comes up, mostly bile and another pill. He thinks that's all he took, but he doesn't remember clearly. His stomach rolls again, trying to make him throw up what isn't there.

Arago leans heavily against the counter on shaking limbs, his vision blurring from tears he's trying not to cry.

Seth is there again. He doesn't ask questions or nudge Arago's aura with his own again. Just says something about going to bed in softer tones than usual which has Arago nodding along. A washcloth is put in his hands and he wipes the blood and bile off his chin, and then he's suddenly leaning heavily on Seth as they shuffle back to his bedroom. The bloody pile on the floor has been cleaned up, and in its place is a bucket.

Seth tells him that he should try to sleep, if he can. Arago can't even protest, just weakly mumbles a thank you in Seth's general direction. He keeps curled up under a thin sheet, and manages to doze off a few times. He's woken each time by his stomach cramping painfully, usually ending in him heaving over the bucket. It's empty each time he wakes up, but he doesn't see Seth again.

~

The day is starting to fade into night and the internal bleeding has mostly seemed to stop. The nausea and pain, however, are still going full force. His stomach feels _wrong_  underneath all of it and he's afraid that this time it isn't going to get better. Done in by a lousy piece of rebar.

His stomach is rolling again and he doesn't want to move. He tries to pull the sheet over his head but his guts lurch, and he groans as he curls up tighter and presses his face into the pillow.

There's no presence in the room, but suddenly there's a weight on the bed. And talking, muffled through the fog in his head and--well, probably the fact that he's buried in his pillow, too. He keeps his arms pressed against his stomach as a large, heavy hand touches his shoulder. He finally looks up and mumbles, "Oz?"

"Hey," Oz says softly. "It hasn't gotten better?"

"No," Arago grits his teeth.

Oz rubs Arago's back through the sheet, until Arago whimpers at the contact, and he pulls away.

"Can you... cut it out?" Arago asks breathlessly. "I d--don't trust myself to... to take out an organ." The last time he tried, h he took out most of his intestines along with the intended spleen. And half those intestines got stuck when his skin grew back around them so they were hanging loose out of his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant day.

"You're sure?" Oz seems unfazed by the request. "I just don't want to pull anything out if it would've healed on its own in a day or so."

"M'sure. It's healed wrong."

Oz nods. "Seth said he brought you morphine." When did he talk to Seth? "Did it help at all?"

Arago shakes his head against the pillow. "Can't keep anything down."

Oz hums. His colors are still invisible. "I'll be right back. Hang in there just for a second."

Arago almost grabs at Oz when he stands up, but he doesn't have the energy to try. Oz comes back with Seth in no time at all, or at least it seems that way since Oz is gently shaking him awake and talking softly. The plan is explained to Arago, and then explained again, but he can barely process it. Seth is going to get his stomach out somehow, that's the important part. He nods, and he thinks they know he's not understanding by the way Seth's aura flickers cold-green-annoyance on top of that lavender concern and forced olive indifference. Colors are easier than words right now.

Oz picks him up princess style, sheet and all. The next thing Arago knows, he's being set down on a tile floor--the bathroom? No, the kitchen. Bathroom's not big enough to lay down and have room for other people to sit next to him.

Before he even knows what's happening, Oz has both arms pinning him across his chest and Seth's hand is wrist-deep inside his torso. Oz must be doing the the thing again because Arago doesn't panic nearly as much as he thinks he should be. He's normally not a fan of people poking at his insides.

He also forgot Seth could do the ghosty... phasing thing. Whatever he calls it. Seems unimportant right now.

"Can you feel this?" Seth asks, as casually as if he were poking Arago's shoulder and not his literal organs.

Arago nods in affirmation. Feels like walking through a ghost, only a vague sensation until Seth's fingers go through his stomach and Oz has to hold him down to prevent him from lurching forward.

Seth, damn him, keeps his hand in the exact same spot. "You're sure this is it?"

Arago isn't sure what he says in response, but the next thing he knows the awful nausea turns into white hot pain. Seth's hand pulls out cleanly, along with Arago's mangled stomach. No blood. Oz keeps his grip strong when Arago screams and tries to throw him off.

He feels the flesh regrowing and--shit shit _shit_ \--he manages to buck Oz just in time to not choke on the blood he immediately throws up on the tile. He's panting and shaking and--oh.

He finally feels better.

Seth lets the disgust radiate off in waves. "Well you were right. Your stomach is-- _was_  beyond fucked."

Oz puts a hand on Arago's shoulder. "Better?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Way better. Thanks."

The floor is covered in blood and a single _really_  messed up stomach. It looks like someone tried to fold it in half and stitch it to itself with scar tissue. Arago feels kinda gross knowing that was in him, but the nausea is thankfully, _finally_ , gone.

"I uh... I should clean this up," he says.

Oz immediately counters with, "Go to bed. You need actual sleep."

"I suggest a shower and a change of clothes before you do," Seth notes dryly. Arago finds himself nodding along as Oz helps him to his feet and nudges him towards his bedroom.

Having friends is nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


	7. we could get better cause we're not dead yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coco's aura burns, but it's good.  
> Coco is good.

 

 

His lungs are burning.

He can't breathe.

He can, however, choke and cough and end up with tiny flecks of sticky red and black on his hands.

Meaning his lungs are actually burning.

Fuck.

 

He swallows five morphine tablets dry.

Waits thirty seconds.

Another thirty.

Two minutes.

Still no urge to throw up.

It's a small blessing, that the pain is focused in his chest. Wheezing through burned lungs hurts, but it beats throwing up every five minutes.

 

Coco is there, sudden and bright and concerned, and he isn't sure how long she's been there unnoticed.

Coco's aura burns, but it's good.

Coco is good.

 

She sits in front of him, practically in his lap, and whispers things he can barely hear.

Her hands are in his hair, and he doesn't even think about her burning until he hears the crinkle of plastic gloves.

 

His lungs don't burn quite as much after a while.

Arago drops his head onto Coco's shoulder, still wheezing through his blistered throat.

"Better?" she asks.

He hums an affirmative.

"You want me to stay?"

"Yeah."

She runs her hands through his hair again.

"Alright. I'll stay."

 

His lungs still burn, but having someone with him during this kind of thing isn't as terrible as it used to seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!

**Author's Note:**

> hey i'm in a discord server focused on arago. if you wanna talk more about the manga, you should definitely [join the server](https://discord.gg/qCQFrmA)!


End file.
